


204863

by ThePowerBabe



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Physical Abuse, seriously don't read it if you are triggered easily, this is not nice at all, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePowerBabe/pseuds/ThePowerBabe
Summary: The Walking Dead/Silent Hills crossoverThe Dixon family in the scene of Silent Hills PTThis very violent. Daryl and Merle are children with an alcoholic and severely abusive tyrant father who is being driven mad by the truck radio. Mom, just as much a victim, but doing her part to abuse her sons, is knocked up by her boss and her husband loses his mind and goes on a killing spree.again, I cannot stress this enough. Its very violent. Child abuse. Swearing. Murder. And if you have watched Silent Hills PT, you know some of the things you see in it.
Kudos: 1





	204863

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when PT was first released. I don't know why I never posted it. Could be the level of graphic violence but... I am sure someone else out there would get some sort of enjoyment out of this. So why not post it.

Daryl opened his eyes and all he could see is the grey stone floor of the cellar. His ol’man screaming upstairs. Throwing shit. Mom was in work. She probably knew what he was doing to him. She’s just as much an asshole if she doesn’t realize. She is probably ignoring it, just as much a victim as her two sons, fearful that if she tried to take them away from her husband, he would find her and kill them all. So she thought she could protect them by earning wage as a store cashier. Daryl knows that saying better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path.  
Merle skipped out, unable to take the abuse. Dad didn’t give a shit and told… or more, threatened his mom that if she tried to call the police to report the missing juvenile delinquent, he would kill Daryl and she won’t have anyone. So she kept silent and Daryl hated her for it. She only ever once tried to defend her sons.  
One night her husband was beating on Merle in a vodka stoked rage and locked Daryl out of the house for no reason other than he was sick of looking at him, the mother tried to call the police and subdue her husband. Merle, who was 14 at the time, lay curled up in a ball on the floor in the kitchen as his father shit stomped him.  
Daryl doesn’t even know why Merle was being beaten. Daryl only remembered that his father was screaming about ‘getting into the moonshine’. Daryl, 8 at the time, wasn’t exactly sure what moonshine was, but he knew it belonged to his dad and that he meticulously hid it in the cellar. Perhaps Merle got into the moonshine.  
Daryl was too small to see into the house from outside. All he could see was the ceiling fan in the kitchen spinning lazily through the back door windows yellowing lace curtains. He could hear his mother crying and pleading. He couldn’t understand her… her words were slurred like she was drunk but Daryl was sure it was because his ol’man probably punched her in the mouth again.  
A faint angry cry. Merle? It was too muffled to be next to the door. Dad must have dragged him into the living room. Daryl’s mind played images of Merle reaching for the back door, mouth too bloodied and swollen to manage anything more than a muffled cry, blood running from his lips and nose, eyes stitched shut as he lay on his side, helplessly reaching for the door knob that seemed hopelessly far away.  
Daryl started to cry. His brother was all he had. He loves his brother.  
“YOU HEAR ME?!! I’M TIRED OF TALKIN’ YOU SKANK ASS HO!’ His dad yelled, his voice thunderous and it seemed to quake the door Daryl leaned on. He was yelling at his mom again. “You better get a job. B’cuz I can’t support you three dead weights anymore. You hear me, you slut?!” He whispered, never the less his voice carried. There was a sharp whip sound and his mom whined. He hit her too.  
“Its your own fault these little assholes have no respect! My ol’man used to beat the shit out of me and my brother! That’s how we became men! These two aren’t boys, their pussies! THIEVING pussies! Ain’t that right, Merrill?” Daryl’s fists clenched on the door, scraping the faded white paint there. His dad would call Merle ‘Merill’ to piss him off… to prove he thinks his first born son is a pussy.  
“My name is MERLE!” Daryl’s brother shouted angrily. His brother was closer to the door than Daryl thought. A loud thud and a choked gasp, and renewed sobbing from his mother told Daryl that his dad had kicked Merle.  
“You’re a pussy. Plain and simple. And your little brother is a mini pussy. Littlest girl I ever met. And if I ever catch you in my moonshine again, you little pussy, I will kill you. You hear me? I… will… kill… you.” He emphasized. Daryl couldn’t see what was happening, so he didn’t realize his dad was coming to the back door until two heavy footfalls later and the door flew open. Daryl was knocked backward off the stoop and he banged his head off the concrete walkway. He blacked out for a moment.  
“Lisa, come get this little rat off the ground. Last thing we need is another hospital bill. I swear to Jesus Mary and Joseph that is all I fucking work for.’ He looked down at Daryl and sniggered. “Next time stay the fuck away from the door.”  
He continued walking and Daryl, in a half daze watched his dad go to their dented and faded pick up and slam the door. He had a bottle of Vodka in his hand and he turned on the radio. Daryl didn’t hear music. He heard a voice saying something but it wasn’t music. It wasn’t sports either. Perhaps his brains got a little scrambled by the thump on the head… but it almost sounded like a number station broadcast.  
How would his dad be able to pick up a number station broadcast? Let alone the fact that their truck radio is a piece of shit. But Daryl always thought they were hard to find. A pair of gentle hands cupped the back of his head and tucked under his arm.  
“Daryl. Come on.” His mom soothed gently.  
“Just pick him the Christ up, woman. He aint dyin… you gonna be soft enough to him to turn him into one of them fairy boys.” His dad yelled from the truck. He opened up the door to say his piece and then slammed it shut again. The truck window was busted so he could not roll it down. Daryl was grateful his mom didn’t listen and that his dad didn’t come out and beat on her for continuing to be gentle.  
Daryl got to his feet, a little spiny, but able to walk under his own steam. His mother’s shaky arm at his shoulders, he walked into the trashed kitchen, Merle was sitting upright in the corner, tucked between the wall and the washing machine. Also broken. He was using a dirty towel to mop up the worst of the blood on his face and clothes. He shot a bitter look at Daryl, but it softened. He sometimes wanted to lash out, he didn’t care at whom. However, his brother deserved it less than everyone else, so the sight of him always anchored Merle’s rage to his mom and dad.  
Daryl started to weep again at the sight of his brother. Merle instantly jumped up and ran to his brother, ignoring that his mother was right there and grabbed his shirt, shaking him.  
“Don’t cry! Men don’t cry! They get ANGRY! And then they get even! You and me, we aint some poor trailer white trash! We are renegades and warriors. Remember?” Merle seethed through bloody lips and teeth. “This is our trainin, so we can do what we have too. I will show you the way, little brother. And it starts when we take out the tyrant and his sibilant whore.”  
“Merle!” His mom snapped and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “I know you didn’t just call me a whore.”  
She pushed him away and down the hall. She was leading them down the hall toward the cellar. She knew that is what her husband…tyrant as Merle put it… would want and if she didn’t fall through, it would all happen again. The hell on earth.  
“You don’t stop him so you are just as bad!” Merle said softly though he allowed his mom to lead him to the cellar.  
“He’ll kill us.” She whispered painfully. Merle felt no pity at the moment. She sounded as if she wanted them to feel sorry for her. Merle had a news flash for her. He flipped her the finger. She had no business needing pity from her children when its her who is supposed to be protecting them.  
“Better dead then live like this.” Merle said equally. She closed her eyes and pretended she didn’t hear.  
“You get down in there and don’t touch your father’s moonshine again. Go on, Daryl. Get in there.” She said, her voice quaking. Daryl looked at her, stunned. He didn’t do anything to deserve going down there, his anger at his mom returning in full force.  
“What the hell would I go down there for? I didn’t do nothing! Merle stole the moonshine, not me!” Daryl pulled away from her. Merle grinned.  
“Don’t argue boys. We all have to do our bit to keep the storm at bay.” She said as she reached for the stick nestled into the corner between the wall and the dresser cabinet. She looked as if she was sorry, but resigned herself to the task that if her boys didn’t do as they were told, she would have to start swinging. At that point it didn’t come to that, Merle just took his little brother by the arm and lead him down the stairs into the dark smelly basement.  
Of course, Merle showed Daryl how to entertain himself, to get their minds off the freaky ass furnace, spiders and stench.  
“There’s only so many times you can pull your wank before even that gets old, little brother.” Merle said quietly, like a master talking to his protégé. He showed him how to track. True… the cellar was dark as fuck, but Daryl was able to see mouse shit in the dark. He was able to follow the line of mouse tracks to come across their escape hole behind the stacked boxes of odd stuff, likely forgotten by whoever owned this piece of shit hovel before they did.  
Their dad was relentless. Drinking every day. Kicking the shit of Merle. He always forgot Daryl. Just neglected him at that time. His abuse was knowing his brother was being slaughtered. Merle didn’t do himself any favors either. Merle seemed determined to piss his father off as much as possible. Til one day he just got fed up and ran away. That’s when the beatings on Daryl commenced. Daryl never outwardly blamed Merle for it. But Daryl would not have these scars if Merle wasn’t a selfish douche bag and left him here. So to escape it he retreated into the basement.  
It took his mind off of being hungry and alone down there in the basement. It got so bad at some point that it was his only escape. So when his dad was not drunk as fuck and threatening to beat him to a pulp for whatever made up reason he had going in his sick head, Daryl found himself down in the basement, tracking the mice and rats. In the dark.  
A couple weeks later the police brought Merle home. Never bothered to ask why their parents didn’t bother to call in a missing persons report for Merle had run away many times before.  
“I’m sorry officer. Thanks for bringing my boy back. I have tried every patient method necessary to keep him in line, but he is just an oppositional child. I will speak to him again.” His dad said. He always presented a calm and dutiful man to the outside world. Daryl wondered if anyone saw it. Ever since his dad lost his job and his mom got a job at the store, he’d spiraled down into madness.  
Any time his dad went missing in the house he could be found sitting in his truck listening to the radio. No one knew why he did that. Daryl could best figure that it was his escape like going into the basement was Daryl’s. Of course, his mom had to walk to work now because the trucks transmission shit the bed.  
Merle and Daryl stayed clear, never touching the moonshine in the basement. Just staying primarily in the basement and outside to keep out of view of their tyrant father. There was only so much time their dad would allow them to stay hidden before he came looking for them. When he did, they were able to get out of the house and hide elsewhere.  
Ten months after their mom started working at the store, Daryl and Merle woke up and heard their father crashing around upstairs. The money situation hadn’t gotten any better. Her wage sucked and they were on the verge of losing the house.  
The boys almost always slept in the basement now. Used to the creepy dank stink and spiders, it was haven compared to the lunatic now raving upstairs with a mid-morning buzz. They avoided their dad like the plague now. He was losing his mind.  
Before, he was just a violent and relentless drunk who never showered and only ate hot dogs while he either sat in front of the TV or sat in his truck listening to the radio. Now… He has been pacing back and forth. The boys can hear him stomping here and there, cussing and throwing stuff, talking to things that aren’t there.  
“I can hear you. I know you are there. Y’all think I don’t know that?! I have it in my head! I hear it in my sleep. 204863… 204863… 204863… you’re gonna pay. I’ll teach you to fuck with me.” He would mutter as he restlessly moved around, uncomfortable in his own skin.  
Mom was hiding somewhere up there. They weren’t sure where she was. She wasn’t in work yet, her shift didn’t start until 2.  
The back door slammed and they can clearly hear the calm that had settled over the house. A few moments of silence before soft footfalls could be heard walking around in the kitchen. As if the person wanted to do something quickly and not be noticed. Merle and Daryl were sure it was their mother. She has come out of her hidey hole to tend to whatever chores she couldn’t do while her husband prowled around.  
The soft footsteps came out of the kitchen. The boys can tell where she was by now. She was heading down the hall toward the front door. The basement was to the left of it. She stopped right at the end of the hall. She knew they were listening.  
“Boys. Get up here and get you some lunch before he comes back. Quick now.” She said quietly. They did come up after a few breathless moments. Daryl did not want to go up. He started crying again and Merle slapped him for being a wuss.  
“Enough of that shit. Man up! I can’t protect you if you are gonna pussy out on me, little bro.” Merle snapped. Daryl did his best to put on a brave face. He wiped the tears away and squared his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, his scrawny body too boney to look manly. But it was good enough for Merle. The strength was in his eyes and heart.  
“What if he comes back in while we’re up there, Merle?” Daryl asked. “What if he starts beatin on us again? Or mom.” Merle froze for a moment as he placed his hands on the door knob.  
“He won’t do that. Didn’t you notice mom’s stomach?” Merle asked seriously. He looked back over his shoulder at his brother meaningfully. Daryl hadn’t really caught more than glimpses of his mother since all this shit started ten months or so ago.  
“I think mom’s knocked up. I can’t imagine dad wantin to do anything like that if she is carryin’.” Merle knew this was a piece of shit. But he didn’t want to scare Daryl with the fact that their dad might be crazy enough to hurt her while she is pregnant.  
Maybe it was a bullshit lie to make Daryl feel a little safer. Dad wasn’t in the house and they were both hungry. If saying dad won’t go on a rampage while she is pregnant got him upstairs to eat, then he will do it. They can scarf down their food and then run back to the safety of the basement. No problem.  
A few minutes later they were standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Their mother told them under no circumstances are they to come into the kitchen without washing their filthy hands and faces. So they had to backtrack and wash up before they could eat. After they ate their mother took their plates away. Honestly it only took them about three minutes to eat their cold macaroni and cheese and tumbler of milk, but she whisked the plates away and looked at them seriously.  
“I know y’all boys heard your father. I think he is gone crazy. I don’t want you to be around when he gets back. I can’t seem to get the police or the doctors on the phone. Its probably a downed line. I want y’all to go upstairs, take baths, change and get out of the house. Come back just before sunset. Go see Mammy Agatha. She likes you boys very much. I don’t want you hidin’ down in the basement anymore.”  
Rather than argue, Merle and Daryl nodded silently. He nudged his brother to follow him. Any argument that may have presented itself was instantly shut down anyway because there was movement outside in the back yard. Their dad was back there which means he could come in at any moment. There can just here him mumbling that nonsensical string of numbers. 204863… 204863… 204863…  
Merle grabbed Daryl by the arm and yanked him into the hallway. They walked down a little ways and started talking fast.  
“Look, mom is telling us to get out of the house. This is perfect. We can leave the house and never come back. You know dad won’t let her go lookin’ for us. And we ain’t goin’ to Agatha’s either. Besides, I have a feelin’ some shit is gonna go down soon.”  
“What’s this number thing dad keeps yappin’ about?” Daryl asked. “204863.”  
“Fuck if I know. I think we should just do what she says.’ Merle said as he thumbed back toward the kitchen. “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think mom is knocked up from dad.” Daryl pulled a disgusted face.  
“While you were sleepin last night I heard her. I heard her cryin in the bathroom. Sayin some shit about how he hurt her. If dad found out, he’d kill them both. I think mom got raped by some fuck-nut. Maybe she did it willingly, I am not sure but we both know when they do the deed the whole fucking neighborhood hears it. I ain’t heard nothin in months have you?” Merle asked and Daryl looked even more disgusted as he emphatically shook his head.  
“What will we do, Merle? We ain’t got jobs or money. How can we take care of ourselves?”  
Merle reached in his pocket and pulled out their dads wallet.  
“Our cheap ass father went and pawned all the jewelry mom had and bought his last case of beer with it. He has to have bought more than that; there isn’t enough money in here to cover all the jewelry he pawned. But there is enough in here to let us eat for a few weeks if we ration it right. Then we can live off the land.” He pointed at the door.  
“The abandon apartment complexes at the end of town. We can shack up there. We know those apartments. We have been there a hundred times. If anyone comes lookin’ we’ll just lose them in the lay out.”  
From the kitchen, the back door banged open. Merle and Daryl looked in that direction. Their father was yelling incoherently at first. His words possibly slurred by the booze, but it was suddenly clear. Their mother whimpered, it was very audible. Merle grabbed his brother and held him close as they listened to their father.  
“YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW?! THEY TOLD ME!! YOU’RE A WHORE!” he screamed and an audible slap could be heard. “You think I will care for that thing? They have been telling me everything! I know what you are! They have been there for me! 204863! 204863! 204863!” Then the most deafening explosion could be heard from behind the closed kitchen door. Merle’s arms were clenched around Daryl so hard he could feel his older brother’s blood run cold.  
“Fuck…” Merle whispered. They were both sure that was a gun.  
“Merle…” Daryl whimpered. He didn’t care if Merle thought it was sissy. But Merle didn’t say anything about it. In fact. Merle had visible tears in his eyes. Sure his mother was dead. And that dad killed her for being pregnant with someone else’s baby.  
“Daryl… ‘ Merle, visibly shaking, looked at his brother, taking his face in his hands gently. For how coarse Merle is, it was amazing there was this much affection and love in his face. It was all he had to give and Daryl was grateful that it was for him. “I’m… I have to see what is goin’ on-‘  
“No-Merle don’t leave me-“ Daryl scrabbled at his brothers arms as he pulled away.  
“I got to see if mom’s okay! Just go hide in the bathroom!” Merle and Daryl had a desperate and silent tussle in the hallway. Merle wanting to go check on his mother, even though until now there would be a negligible list as to why he should even give a rats ass, he still – in the heat of the moment- loved his mother. Daryl didn’t want to be left alone or for anything bad to happen to Merle that would prevent him from coming back.  
Thick tears coursing down the boy’s faces as they heard their father in the kitchen suddenly start mumbling again. “204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863…” Like a mantra.  
“Please come back, Merle… please come back…” Daryl sobbed as he backed away toward the bathroom. Merle looked back at his brother before taking the corner.  
“I promise.” He said.  
While Daryl ran into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door before jumping behind the shower curtain, Merle silently and slowly made his way toward the kitchen. His heart pounding furiously in his chest as he neared it, his father insistent drone of 204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863… getting louder.  
At best, he can only hope the shot was a warning. That his mother was curled up in a ball, hands over her head, buckshot hole in the wall near her. But still alive. Merle’s fingers touched the flimsy swinging door and he pushed it in slowly. He didn’t have to push it in all the way to see the red all over the floor, his mother’s body mercifully out of site but for the bloody bottom of her legs. Her shoes she wore to work splattered in her gore. His mother is dead. Merle felt rage boil up inside him.  
He meant to turn around, grab Daryl and get the fuck out of there. Go to Agatha’s… call the cops. Something. Merle turned his eyes away from his mother, realizing he was idle in the doorway too long when he focused in on the barrel of the shot gun his father was pointing at him. Merle felt a pang of fear for Daryl, crying before his brain matter was blown out the back of his skull.  
Merle’s lifeless and damned near headless body toppled backward and hit the floor with a hard thud.  
204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863…204863…  
Daryl was crouched in the shower stall with his hands over his ears screaming silently. He knew Merle was dead. That his mom was dead. And he could hear his father coming down the hallway slowly.  
204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863…204863… 204863… 204863…204863…  
Something heavy was being dragged. Daryl’s child mind painted images of his father dragging his mother’s dead body by the foot down the hallway leaving a long bloody trail behind her. He cried harder, his focus blurred as he tried to calm himself.  
204863…  
“Daryl.” A soft voice called from outside the bathroom. It was his dad. Daryl’s hands only came away from his ears slightly. His dad called him with a tenderness he never heard… nor trusted. “Come on out, boy. Your mama needs help in the kitchen. I sent Merle to get me a beer. I need to talk to you about some things that need changing.”  
204863…  
Daryl was too scared to move. He did not want to go out there, sure his dad was lying. As soon as he opened the door he would be blown to smithereens.  
“I am gonna give you til the count of three. If I have to go in there and get ya, boy, you won’t sit on your ass for a week.” He said. “I want to talk to you and if I don’t hear your hand on the door knob by the time I hit three you will be sorry.”  
204863…  
“One…” His father started counting. Daryl’s child mind told him to get up and move because he would get his ass tanned if he didn’t.  
“Two…” His father continued in warning. But Daryl’s rational mind knew that if he did go out there he would be killed.  
“Two and a half.” His father chided. Daryl jumped up out of the tub and took the doorknob in his hand. He was so scared to open it but if his father said ‘three’ he would come in and kill him anyway. Perhaps Daryl’s mind was playing tricks. There is no way this is really happening. Tentatively Daryl opened the door.  
His father was framed in the doorway, one hand behind his back. Crimson dots were splattered all over him. Daryl could feel the hot urine run down his skinny leg and onto the floor. Daryl’s eyes flicked down to the floor where he saw his mother’s body crudely splayed, covered in blood, her guts trailing on the floor like streamers. Daryl’s eyes widened. His mouth opened to let out a hoarse scream that never made it passed his lips. He felt cold metal touch his chest and a rending explosion stopped all the fear. All the pain. Everything.  
A half an hour later the cops found Mr. Dixon in his beat up truck, listening to something. Or trying too. The cops didn’t hear anything, but he had his head tilted to the side as if listening intently.  
In the house they found Daryl Dixon in the bathroom doorway just inside the entrance hall, his upper half partially severed from his lower half. Merle Dixon was in the entrance of the kitchen, his face blown away. Mrs. Dixon was found inside the bathroom, in the tub, her lower abdomen blown open and what the cops described as something straight out of a nightmare, a dead fetus was discovered in the sink, rinsed clean of all blood so it lay bare. Umbilical cord missing.  
The chief never seen anything so horrible in his life. Almost the same MO as the last familicide. Only this one took the cake with the exposure of the underdeveloped fetus in the sink.  
The father was taken into custody. He was sentenced to the death penalty. But it had been pardoned by reason of insanity. Mr. Dixon remains in a psychiatric hospital in Maryland.  
Still repeating his mantra.  
204863… 204863… 204863…204863…


End file.
